The Letters and Journals of Hvaldi Blackfeather
by Drakolus
Summary: A series of letters and journals from the perspective of Hvaldi Blackfeather, a character in an ongoing game of One Ring.


Herein are the collected letters and journals of the Erebor Dwarf, Hvaldi.

As an assistant to any readers, a small primer has been prepared to detail the important personae present in the majority of these writings.

Hvaldi Blackfeather - Author of these works and Dwarf of Erebor. Occasional scholar and warrior and extensive traveler.

Baern - Prince of the Northern folk, the ancient Leofrings who stayed behind when the Rohirim migrated.

Charlothain "Charlotte" of Rhudaur - Tall, slim Dunedain originally sent to kill Prince Baern. She ended up befriending him and joining the companions.

Joller Joffrey Greenhand - Hobbit of the Shire, brave, if occasionally foolish companion and excellent sneak and cook.

Regelram "Reg" - Woodman Archer of great repute. Haunted by a family curse.

Geerta Silverlake (Maiden: Blackfeather) - Hvaldi's sister and recipient of his letters.

Here begins the tales of Hvaldi and his friends

 **That's it! I'm leaving.**

-Hvaldi's First Journal Entry-

That pebble-sucker of an apprentice Smith has broken my last bar of will to stay. Yet again he "forgot" to clean out the forges leaving heaping piles of ash and soot which upset the balance needed to forge good steel. Of course, I was blamed for this and of course I was ordered to work late to clean out the ash piles with no extra pay.

All because my Clan name is Blackfeather. The fact that I was not slated to tend the forges that day was irrelevant. The fact that the swine of an apprentice was seen carousing in the ale houses and NOT tending to his duties, also ignored. Nope, Blackfeather means guilty.

By the time I got home, the Clan houses were quiet. The watch was patrolling but not calling out the hours meaning I was well into the time I should have been sleeping. I was still roiling with anger and offense. This is not the first time, nor the tenth time nor even the hundredth time that I have had to suffer for my namesake's ill reputation. I made up my mind on the spot and began to gather my gear and possessions. There was an entire world out there where I was not the ever present and ever targeted "Villain."

I began my long climb up from the depths, leaving a few notes for my friends and family. Precious few they are and I hope they will understand. I even promised my sister that I would write when I could. Partly to keep in touch and also to keep practicing my letters as she requested. She always wanted me to develop my mind and not end up another menial laborer, ground down by the hard work. The name and life of my Father hangs heavy over our family.

My first surprise was the Sun. I reached the surface at daybreak and I was unprepared for the intensity of the light. I had heard it was bright up here and I had even seen it once or twice when I was a lad but I had forgotten just how painful that incandescent eye-spearing Sun was. I'm not proud to say but I gave credence to my detractors that morning when I stole a hooded cloak from a watch post before I set out on my way. I traveled as far as I could before exhaustion demanded that I bed down at about midday. I slept most of the day and a good portion of the night. I spent a few lazy hours going over what little I knew about the surface world before taking a final nap.

The Sun again rose, and I with it. I stepped off into it's ever-so-slightly less painful light with a smile. My journey had begun and no one was there to ruin it and bemoan my standing as a Blackfeather. The whole World was out there to explore, people to meet and adventures to be had.

 **The Letters and Journals of Hvaldi**

-A letter to Geerta-

Dearest Geerta,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry I have not written in so long but it has been a very exciting and eventful year. When I left the Mountain I wandered around mostly reveling in my new-found freedom and exploring all of the lands around our home. I was lucky enough to meet all sorts of interesting folks and I even made a few friends. The people up here are very accepting and I still have not grown used to the novelty of hearing our surname pronounced without all of the scorn that we get inside the Mountain.

I met a very interesting group of people about 8 months ago in circumstances you will most likely find humorous. In keeping with old habits, I made time where I could to visit every library and scroll rack I could find during my travels. The Great Library was one of the few places in the Mountain where I could pass the time, content to read with little interruption and no one constantly demanding to know if I'd stolen something or was going to cause trouble. Kinuuk and Tavdi were some of my closest friends and they made sure to direct me to the most interesting books and scrolls when they were working in the Library. So it should be no surprise that I befriended a fellow scholar up here during my travels.

I met a rather large human named Baern, or more correctly, Prince Baern. He hails from a war ravaged land far to the west and his father, while technically a King, has no kingdom as of yet. They both seem determined to put this to rights though. The serendipitous part of our meeting though was discovering a fellow student of history and learning. I met Baern in a rather run down and ill-kept library. We were both perusing some of the older tomes on offer. I was looking into some of the happenings of the previous age when Baern asked me if he could borrow the tome I was using, to cross reference something about the Rohanni exodus. We got to talking and found we shared many interests.

Things being what they are, a kindred soul is a delight to find while so far from home. I took up traveling with Baern and his companions more out of having something to do than for any particular gain or purpose. His group is a rather esoteric blend of Humans, a Hobbit and myself. I met his father and was delighted to find they had a rather large collection of documents, scrolls, books and ledgers. What they did not have was someone to curate them, index them and care for them. I spent the better part of four months putting their collection into some form of order all while the companions had all sorts of adventures and expeditions.

I ask you now, not to worry for me, but I accompanied the companions on their last adventure. My time in the militia prepared me well for the rigors of any scuffles we may stumble into and the labors that drove me from the mountain left me in good stead for the hardships of travel and adventure so please, do not fret.

Prince Baern had made it a point to begin researching a number of topics related to his father's previous kingdom and his lineage thanks to my organization of their books and scrolls. Before he began his delvings though he gave us a task. As an aside, I swear he looked almost as if he had gold-sickness looking at all of those books. The hunger for knowledge was plain to see in him. He charged Reg, Charlotte and myself to recover an item of some import to his lineage. It seems his family had possessed a Great-Axe of some repute in the misty reaches of the past. It had been lost for quite some time but recent events had brought to light it's location, deep in the wilder reaches of the Lone Lands. It seems it had been found by some of the more unsavory inhabitants of that area and needed rescuing.

I set out to meet my companions at the Forsaken Inn. That particular place is well named. It seems as if it is perched upon the very precipice of the wild. There is almost no civilization beyond it and it is perched upon the last, tenuous road leading out into the reaches of the Lone Lands. My companions finally met me at the Inn and we spent the day resting and preparing for our journey to the ruined castle in the far north-east of the province.

Charlotte is a rather abrasive Woman who is quick to take offense and seems to alternate between suspicion and fear. She is quite handy in a fight though and seems to know the paths and areas we trek across. Reg seems to be an odd fellow. Quiet and wood-wise, he seems to be tireless on the road. He could probably shame an Elf or two with that bow of his as well. What's more, he seems to talk to squirrels. They are small rodent like creatures, somewhat similar to rats but with inquisitive, talkative natures and big bushy tails. I would write it off as a minor illness of the mind but I swear to you, I saw one of the creatures throw an acorn at Charlottes head after Reg squeaked and skittered at it. She had been particularly petulant with Reg the past few hours.

We managed to make our way to the ruins and sneak in and make our way out with a minimum of fuss. I saw a group of Wargs of some sort! They are quite large and noisy but they were penned up so no danger to us. Oh, and I suppose I should mention we did get in a bit of a scuffle here and there but nothing serious. Please do not worry Mother with any of this, I am perfectly fine. They did not even touch my shield much less harm me.

We made our way from the ruins back to Rhosgobel in the very greatest of hurries. My feet ache like never before and I feel like every inch of me is battered and bruised from my armor and gear banging about. We even got to ride a boat on a river. That would have been very exciting had I not been exhausted from all of the running and traveling. I wish we could have slowed down as I yearn to see the lands I travel through, not keep my head down and push hard for time. No matter though, Baern and his friends, well I guess they are my friends now too, we are a fairly active bunch and I foresee many an adventure for me to write back to you about. Please pass along my love to Mother and tease Kinuuk and Tavdi a little bit letting them know the bewildering variety and quantity of books and scrolls I have managed to peruse up here. On a more somber note, please leave a token at Father's stone and pass along my greetings to our Brothers.

With Love,

Hvaldi

P.S. I found a haft made of Everwood during our travels, can you imagine it? I had only heard hints and whispers of such material in the past. I'm going to fit my hammerhead to it when I get a chance. From what I've been told it will not break or tarnish and it is carved with all manner of scenes and Elf writing. It's fascinating!

 **The Letters and Journals of Hvaldi: 2**

-Another letter to Geerta-

Dear Geerta,

Please forgive the brevity of this letter. I'm hoping the fact that I am hand delivering it will help assuage any loss from such a short missive. Also, I hope you enjoy the landscape drawing of Rhostobel. It is a beautiful area and I know you've always enjoyed landscapes.

Prince Baern sent Reg, Charlotte, Joller and myself to escort an emissary of his Mother to Lake Town. I could not pass up the opportunity to visit you and Mother even if it was only for a few short hours. We set out early in the morning a few days past. As with all of these journeys it seems we were in a great hurry. We set a punishing pace to make our first campsite by early evening. Reg and Charlotte quickly found evidence of patrolling goblins though so sleep was light and furtive that night. Early in the morning Reg saw a skulking goblin and woke us.

We quickly packed up and made our way further north, trying to avoid contact with any of these foul creatures. I thought we had avoided them by taking a few detours. Later that day we even ventured into the Murkwood via the Elf road. I am not ashamed to admit this terrified me. The darkness of that ancient wood is not the comforting, solid silence of stone and cavern. We had to bed down that night in that crypt-like forest. I refused to leave the road as I've heard far too many stories of travelers going missing among those trees. Even with all of our precautions and deviations though, the Goblins managed to find us that night. Charlotte called out a warning as she dashed off into the trees to give battle to the onrushing Goblin ambush.

As Baern had charged us with defending the Handmaiden, I rushed to put on my armor and then stood guard over the young lass. I did my best to call out enemy positions and give aid where I could but I felt hamstrung. I was unable to leave the young one's side and give battle to the foul Goblins. I did manage to best one of them by throwing my hammer though. We drove off most of the Goblins and a foul hill-man who was leading them and immediately set off again on our journey hoping to avoid any more altercations with these creatures.

My journey was mostly a view of the road, my running feet and a general feeling of exhaustion but we made it to the estate south of Lake Town without any more incidents. The Lord of the Manor was kind enough to quickly take us in and see to our needs. His young daughter and Baern's intended expertly managed the household to take in our tired and ragged party and even seemed to win over the normally dour Charlotte with the offer of hot baths and warm food.

It is from this island of rest and recuperation that I set out on my journey this morning to visit you and Mother. I wish I could say that I am filled with nothing save for happy excitement but I bristle with dread at the thought of returning to the halls where my name brands me the scoundrel. It has been refreshing to be treated as an equal and even as a person of worth while up here on the surface. I still miss all of my family though so it is with a smile that I set off to see you.

 **The Letters and Journals of Hvaldi: 3**

-A journal entry-

I feel as though I've done naught but travel from one place to the next lately. We've managed to find a relatively safe spot to camp for the night so I ought to finally make a journal entry to catch up on the last week.

It's times and travels like these that my Mother and Sister tried to warn me of. When I told them of my plans to see the surface world, they were understandably concerned for my safety. They knew I would end up in situations like these last few days. With that being said, if I do end up dying and someone is kind and adventurous enough to find this journal and then go to the efforts to return it to my family, Geerta, you can say "I told you so."

Reg, Joller, Charlotte and I had scarcely returned to Woodman Town when Baern bombarded us with questions. He was understandably nervous about his proposed union with Linhild and asked after our recollections of her. I told him honestly that she seemed as a child to me and did not have a beard so my estimations of her beauty were colored by the divide between Man and Dwarf.

That was not the only issue of import this late and tired evening though. Baern had been told by his Mother, having only returned to the Town recently himself, that his Father had departed to the north. Apparently a messenger had arrived from Sarumon informing Hjorig that the lost crown of his line had been seen again. Hjorig had taken a few companions and departed almost a fortnight past intending to journey through the blighted depths of Khazad Nor. The lands to the north are not forgiving and the increased Orc and Goblin activity we had seen worried Prince Baern.

It is with both pride and a sense of chagrin that when Prince Baern made mention of his intention to journey north after his father while simultaneously being unwilling to ask his companions to follow him, I all but demanded to go with him. I'll not let my friends journey into danger alone while there is breath in my body. So I have no one to blame for my current predicament save for my own pride and stubbornness.

We set out early the next day heading west to the river where we took Prince Baern's boat North. For four days we battled the current and the wind. I can only express thankfulness that it is summer for adding in the cold and ice of winter on that roiling mass of water would have been taxing indeed.

Early on the fourth day, Joller's keen eyes caught sight of evidence of a skirmish on the river banks. We put ashore and my companions pushed inland to investigate. It seems that King Hjorig's party was to be the target of a wood Goblin ambush. The Goblins had not counted on the King and his companion's caution and capability though and they were decimated. It was their bodies and equipment we found piled around the former campsite.

Even more curious was the presence of two Goblins bearing the livery, if you can call Goblin scrawlings that, of the Misty Mountains. Far from home these two were. This only added to Prince Baern's worry and we pushed further north to Thorusmund's steading, a deserted Cabin with a dock on a smaller stream. We tied off to the dock and decided to camp for the night. We found evidence that we were catching up to King Hjorig's party which seemed to cheer Baern slightly. However I soon had to sour his mood again.

There was a little bit of ale left in the Cabin's keg and obviously I was the one to find out that fact. Carved into the wood of the keg in Khazalid was evidence that the notorious Dourhand rogue Skorri was the seventh member of King Hjorig's party. This scoundrel has a black reputation well earned for his foul deeds. Adding to that, Skorri was far from his normal area of operation meaning he had no business being a "guide" for Hjorig's party. I informed Baern of all of this before going upstairs to claim a bed for the night.

I was just thinking about Skorri and how he normally ran schemes alongside his equally foul brother Norri when I spied a few small droplets of fresh blood on the floorboards. With resignation I called out to prince Baern and hefted my hammer and shield. I knew Charlotte had made a single-minded rush for the steading's bathtub. I softly called out to her and listened for her normal singing to no avail. I made my way to the door only to find it locked and Charlotte not answering.

Thankfully, there were no judgemental Lonely Mountain Dwarfs around to witness what I did next. My labors in the crafts have left me with some skill at picking locks of which I made use at that moment. I tried to quietly push open the door after that but I found the scoundrel Norri with a knife at Charlotte's neck waiting to negotiate. He threatened Charlotte's life, a rather obvious opening gambit. I tried to call him on his bluff thinking that he would not kill his only bargaining chip.

By the sudden turn of his features, I knew I had judged wrong. I quickly snapped my hammer forward, throwing it with a quick flick. The militia sergeants would rage if they knew I've been using this little trick lately. They constantly harped about NEVER losing your weapon or throwing it away. This little trick worked again though. Norri was not expecting this and neither was Charlotte judging by the size of her eyes. I managed to give Norri a good hit though and he staggered back releasing Charlotte. I also managed to put a good size hole in the bathing tub after my hammer deflected off of Norri. With water pouring through the floorboards and all manner of chaos erupting, I charged with my shield held high.

Norri was not an unseasoned brigand so I had to put myself between him and the defenseless and rather nude Charlotte. Norri was expecting my charge but I managed to push him back to the window. I thought to play for time while my friends rushed to my aid but once again, the almost prescient Reg was standing outside looking up at the window with his bow drawn. When he saw the shadow of Norri fill the window he put a shaft right through the ruffian's heart.

Here is the first time I lost my temper and good sense. With no explanation, I opened the window and tossed Norri's corpse out of it. I was incensed that he would threaten my friends and continue with his foul ways. Reg, having a clearer head, searched Norri and found a note, apparently from his nefarious brother Skorri detailing a scheme to waylay King Hjorig's party. Judging by the failed Goblin ambush and now his late brother having no more opportunity to catch up with him, it was not going well.

Charlotte was mostly unhurt with only a minor bruise and a small nick to show for her close call. We all tried to settle down, have a quick but delicious meal (having a Hobbit along does have it's perks) and then off to our beds to prepare for a journey north the next day. I all but collapsed into my bed that night. The four days of rowing and the night's excitement had done me in.

The next day found Reg keeping watch from his tree-perch with two dead Goblins underneath. It seems the one group at the campsite wasn't the only batch of those foul creatures Skorri and his brother had sought to hire. This was all Prince Baern could take and he rushed us through packing up and got us on the road north to the gates of Khazad Nor.

Here, is where I will admit my unrelenting fear. The sight of that cavernous maw yawning darkly as it led deep into and under the Grey Mountains filled me with dread. These are not the halls of life and vigor that I both miss and loathe from the Lonely Mountain. These are caverns and delvings filled with silence, death and foulness. We inched our way into these dark tunnels with a healthy dose of caution and trepidation.

Khazad Nor has been abandoned by good folk for 50 or more years. All manner of foul creatures can and have made their way into these maze-like depths. As we made our way deeper into the former hold, the sun-shafts grew sparser and the sign of all manner of evil grew greater. The map we were following quickly proved to be incomplete but for the most part correct.

We came to our first crossroads when the overwhelming sense of evil held us up for a few moments. And good that our senses were heightened for an instant later we spied a Cave Troll snuffling around! We all froze and sought to avoid it's notice with Joller taking the extraordinary step of hiding in a pile of the creature's spoor. Reg had his bow trained and we could all see that the creature was trying to sniff us out. I picked up a small stone and threw it down a passageway, thinking to distract the creature and send it hunting.

I cringe to think back at my panicked stupidity. I threw the stone down the hallway that we needed to traverse! The troll dutifully complied with my desires and shambled off down that hallway seeking the prey it imagined was fleeing that way. My companions and I all breathed a sigh of relief and waited, praying the Troll would keep going.

After a short discussion we set off down the eastern hallway and mercifully did not run into the Troll. We turned north again and continued on our journey following the map as best we could. I happened to notice a pile of rubble with a tiny Dwarven ruin chalked upon it. A small cylinder held a message for Skorri's brother Norri detailing his efforts to lead King Hjorig's party into "His" lair. I do not know of whom Skorri speaks but it can only bode ill for the King and his companions.

We pushed ahead watching for chalk sign and came to another crossroad. This one was massive with a collapsed tower that once lead to upper levels and three other hall ways branching off to the cardinal directions. The gloom was almost complete enough to require torches for the others eyes and the ruins seemed to loom with foreboding over us. We fanned out to search for sign and found an abundance of it. Chalk sign showed the western passage was the route the party, guided by Skorri, took. There was evidence that they had camped among these ruins and I found another message cylinder from Skorri.

Poison! That Dourhand rat was exclaiming his happiness that he had managed to poison some of the King's party. I will have a reckoning with that foul excuse for a Dwarf. I warned off my companions from the well thinking that the most likely target for Skorri's machinations. I was explaining the note to Prince Baern when a hushed cry of alarm went up from my companions. From the eastern tunnel came a large party of Misty Mountain goblins. Again, they were far from home and in numbers great enough to warrant extreme caution.

My companions quickly made themselves scarce, disappearing into the shadows, under cloaks and into the rubble. I am not stealthy. This fact alone should have disproved all of the accusations to thievery and nefarious activities I received while growing up in the Lonely Mountain. I knew I could not hide as well as they could but I would at least claim to display occasional flashes of cleverness. We had seen evidence of Dwarven defenders laying where they were slain almost half a century ago throughout our travels so I thought one more Dwarven "corpse" would not attract too much notice. I collapsed into a corner placing my shield over me.

My ruse apparently worked as the Goblins cautiously advanced into the crossroads. There were 18 of the foul creatures led by a rather large specimen wielding a large, glowing mace. He seemed to be looking at this enscorlled weapon and then around the cavern with no small amount of confusion. A sharp exclamation from Prince Baern proved that this was a known foe. Reg punctuated the outburst by putting an arrow through the foul creatures head. I swear that Man is more Elf than Woodman sometimes. He is devastating with that bow.

Bedlam erupted at that moment. My companions and I arose from our hiding spots and set about us with the greatest enthusiasm. All of us knew that while we held the advantage of surprise, we were sorely outnumbered and needed to punish these goblins quickly before they were able to regroup and overwhelm us. With that in mind I set forth a challenge to shake the very stone above. With the best and loudest "BARUK KHAZAD" I could manage, I flew into a group of goblins hewing this way and that.

My vision, narrowed by my helm, was further limited by my rage. It seems the dark of this benighted place coupled with my own foul memories of Dwarven tunnels colored my emotions. I set about with all of my anger and did not take much note of what my companions were doing. I am ashamed to admit that had my companions dearly needed me to defend them or render aid, I would have been unaware.

This, apparently, is the battlerage that some warriors speak of. I know we triumphed and my companions seem to be in good spirits but I will hold this battle as a mark of shame upon me. I need to be composed in battle and ready to render aid where it is needed. I was trained to be a calculating defender, not some woolly hill-man frothing and swinging about wildly.

After this victory, were confronted by a conundrum though. It was late enough that the sun-shafts no longer provided any light and we needed a place to camp. With so many bodies, it was obvious that the scavengers would be upon these crossroads in very little time. Proceeding in any of the directions exiting this area presented it's own dangers. It seems fate decided to be kind to us though. We found a small trap-door in the floor which led to a small, unused storeroom and family crypt below this level. We quickly piled into this area and latched the door. We have built a small fire and set watch as we all bedded down. From this relatively safe vantage, I finish this journal entry and seek the peace of sleep.

Dark tunnels and tidings journey alongside,

Our fellowship to save family and pride.

Into the maw of night and portents untrue.

A crown to reclaim and friends to rescue.


End file.
